


What We Lost

by magnuspr1m3



Series: Marvel Oneshots [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Civil War (Marvel), Hurt Peter, M/M, Not looking forward to Captain America 3, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Steve, Self-Sacrificing Steve Rogers, Super Human Registration Act is dumb, Superfamily (Marvel), Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4720454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnuspr1m3/pseuds/magnuspr1m3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Civil War AU] Tony had fucked up big time. That bruise on Peter's jaw was proof of that. The fact that the last time he had seen Steve, his husband had nearly beat him to death was as well. Tony waited a while, staring up at the ceiling above them for a couple hours until he was sure Peter was asleep. He pulled himself out of the bed and to a stand, ignoring the quivering of his limbs. He took his time changing clothes and taking stock of the bruises he had acquired, wishing for once that he could go back to the eternally gentle Steve he had come to love. Which is what motivated him to stagger out of the cabin, and into the woods. His body shivered from the early winter wind chill, but he kept moving. He had promises to keep, the first of many being, “for better or for worse”, and the last being, “till death do us part.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I listen to Saturn by Sleeping At Last on repeat. Forgive me for any writing mistakes or feels. I take full responsibility for both. Also, don't read Robert Frost while doing so, because then you'll get feels. The stanza is from "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost. Seemed fitting.

**What we lost**

 

The fight had taken so much out of him. He was not as young as he had once been. The armor fell away from him once he collapsed in the cozy little cabin, arms keeping him from falling face first into the ground. “C’mon, Tony. Up,” came the soft voice of Peter. God, he hated himself for putting the kid in the middle of this. Not that he would not have been in the middle of it anyway. He was a superhero just like the rest of them, no matter how much he and Steve both complained and protested it.

_Steve._

That still hurt the worst, thinking of his husband and remembering everything he said. All of the hits. For better or for worse, they’d said. They had essentially squandered that. He doubted it could get much worse than this. And now they were at each other’s throats, trying to kill the other to prove a point. What sort of twisted love was this?

Their relationship had always been rocky, though. They had fallen into each other, quite literally. Tony had practically crawled back to his tower post-Mandarin, and just a few short weeks later a still battered Steve had shown up at his doorstep saying he needed his help. And Tony helped him. Tony rallied all of the Avengers together and got them on HYDRA’s trail without a second thought. If only to ensure that they never hurt Steve like that again, leave him in such a broken state. Tony would hunt them down himself. Steve noticed, of course. Found Tony in his lab during the wee hours of the morning scouring the internet for any clues and just sat with him. He said nothing, simply sat there drawing while Tony worked.

The friendship surprised their teammates. It surprised them, too. The late nights spent down in the lab together helped them actually get over the stupid arguments they were so prone to having (They still happened sometimes.). They fed off of each other, forming plans and strategies, and on a few occasions finishing each other’s sentence. It was disturbing. But not as disturbing as when Tony got shot down by a tank and it caused the plate that had to be placed in his chest to keeping it from collapsing after the Arc reactor was removed to shatter. Over half of his ribs broke, and his heart nearly stopped from the sudden pressure on it. Both of his lungs were punctured. Doctors had said he probably would not make it. They only said that a whole two times before they were on the side of Captain America’s wrath. He had snagged one of them by their shirt and shoved them against the wall. “You save him. The world needs him. We _need_ him.”

Rehabilitation had been a struggle for Tony. But Steve had helped him every step of the way, being so impossibly gentle with Tony at times that he forgot the strength the soldier possessed at times. And it got to Tony, of course. He realized it too late, not until he had impulsively kissed Steve that _oh god I am falling for fucking Captain America_. And he was so relieved to find that Captain America apparently felt the same.

Honestly, getting together made it a bit worse. Tony teased Steve more, although Steve took it like a champ. The super soldier always acted like Tony was glass, though. He was too gentle, and it drove Tony nuts at times. They fought at times, sometimes physically on Tony’s part. But Steve never hit him back. Tony could push and push and push, but nothing. Steve was too good. Too perfect.

The fighting almost completely stopped when they met Peter. The poor kid was living on his own in an abandoned apartment, trying to balance high school with crime-fighting and staying alive at the same time. It was by chance that Steve had actually been thrown through the wall of Peter’s apartment by a Doom bot when Victor Von Doom decided to try and take over New York City (again). Steve had come face to face with Spider-Man as he was catching his breath, and then… A kid. Peter joined the fighting as soon as he could get Steve back on his feet, the concussion Steve had hindering his thought processes a bit. Tony was practically screaming for him over the comm lines, the panic in his lover’s voice usually unheard of.

Tony had originally just offered Peter a place at the tower for helping Steve. He was a good kid, really intelligent if a bit awkward. He had not even entertained the idea of adopting Peter, not until Steve just said it one day.

“I want to adopt Peter.”

Tony had looked up at him sharply from where he was working in his lab, Steve sitting on the love-seat Tony had brought down for him. “Adopt him? Why? I mean, he’s 16, Steve. If you want a kid, just adopt someone young. Peter’ll be gone before you know it.” Tony had said without a second thought, because it was probably true. Peter would likely move on as soon as he turned 18, go to college, possibly even get a place of his own. Tony certainly had.

Steve did this adorable thing with his hands that Tony noticed whenever he was nervous, looking down at his sketchpad. What he said next caught him off-guard. “He reminds me of you. He’s intelligent, and brave. Maybe lacks a bit of common sense. He’s got enough sass to be your kid. And he has those same damn brown eyes that you have.” Steve huffed, although a smile still graced his face. “But he’s certainly taller than you. He has super strength, and I just… My imagination gets away from me because he has so many traits that remind me of _us_. What if we’re meant to adopt him? Like God wants us to?”

And while Tony did not entirely agree with the reasoning, they did wind up adopting Peter. The teen was ecstatic, but a bit conflicted at first. He missed his Aunt May and Uncle Ben apparently. But, what kid wanted to be alone, living in a condemned apartment building? Not Peter. The adoption went relatively smoothly, even. The only complaint from the system was that they were not married while adopting Peter together.

Which had apparently given their new web-crawling child an idea. He was constantly pestering one (or both) of them about it. When’s the wedding? Where’s the ring? What venue were they choosing? Was Tony going to wear a dress? It drove Tony absolutely nuts, although Steve seemed to find it hilarious. Whenever Peter would start with the questions, he would just give Tony that goofy little grin that always seemed to just force him to be happy, too. Because if Captain America could handle the kid being annoying, then Tony could, too.

So Tony learned to ignore all of Peter’s pestering. But Steve had not. No, Steve had to go and complicate things even more. Tony should have seen it coming when Steve had asked him on an actual date, but just led him up to the roof. Tony had learned to just let Steve have his way with some things, though, and the roof looked absolutely breath-taking (not that he’d admit it). He had taken his seat at the little two person table Steve had set up, and the both of them had happily eaten their dinner. They chatted amongst themselves about nothing and everything and somehow Tony did not mind one bit. He even let Steve hold his hand over the table, like the old romantic his boyfriend was. It was so nice.

And then suddenly Steve was on one knee and there was a ring and Tony wanted to run. He wanted to run far, far away from that ring and what it meant. He was Tony Stark. He was the eternal bachelor. He was not meant to settle down.

But he already had in a way. He had been with Steve for quite some time, and had shared a room with him for almost as long. They had a kid together, even. He doubt he knew how to go about his morning routine now without Steve by his side. Not to mention he had not been to a party that was not for charity in so long. He had settled down. And it was frightening, but that stupid hopeful look in Steve’s stupid blue eyes had him throwing his own anxiety out the window. He would do this. For Steve. Because he did love him, surprisingly. And Steve already made so many sacrifices for him. He could do the same.

Everything went smoothly for them after that. The wedding was small, but nice. Peter, Bruce, and Rhodey had managed to keep Tony from running long enough to see Steve in his dress uniform and that sufficiently got rid of any urge to run he still had. They exchanged vows (which Pepper had helped him write), and Tony had actually teared up a bit at Steve’s. He managed to resist the urge to pounce Steve when they were finally told to kiss. He pulled away just a bit, though, and whispered, “I’m ripping that off of you later.” Which set up for quite a fantastic honeymoon.

But things got worse when Ultron happened. A lot worse. There was so much arguing between him and Steve. And he thought they were fine in the end. But Steve elected to stay at the new Avengers compound, and it hurt. It hurt, and Tony hid it like he always did. He hid until he made it back to the tower (alone because Peter was at the compound as well), and the voice that greeted him was not Jarvis. It was the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back. _He broke._ He fell to his knees and sobbed for too long to be mentioned. He sobbed and sobbed and threw his rings across the room, along with anything else he could get his hands on.. And then he drank. He drank until he blacked out, and then apparently kept drinking. He only found out about this when he woke in a hospital bed, one hand clenched a bit too tightly in Steve’s and Peter sitting on his other side, asleep.

Steve had nursed him back to health, and stayed by his side then. He traveled to the compound every day, along with Peter, and came back every night. He had dumped all of the alcohol in the tower, insisting on AA meetings. Tony had of course refused the meetings, but had agreed to stop drinking. And to counteract his urges, he drank black coffee instead. Steve was still a bit annoyed by the coffee habit, but did not complain. It kept Tony sober.

Then Steve and Peter did not come back one night, and Tony panicked. They had finally left him. They had gotten tired of taking care of him and left. They had left him.

But they had not. Steve called him in the middle of his panic attack, when Tony was curled up on the floor of the bathroom. “Hey, babe. We got called out, but we’re headed home now. Did I wake you?” At how soft the last question came, Tony lost it. He cried and cried and hated himself for it. He was so dependent on them. He had spent most of his life independent of everyone (except Pepper eventually), a lone wolf. And now he had a panic attack when his little family did not come home on time.

His family that he was now tearing apart. God, he hated himself. But he was siding with whom he felt was right at the moment. It just so happened that the person in the right was not his husband. They were dangerous to the public. He could not blame the world for wanting them registered.

Peter helped him to one of the bedrooms, settling him the dusty bed. “You want an ice pack?” He asked softly, still wearing most of his own costume. “You got socked pretty hard in the face.”

Tony snorted, shifting on the comforter some to try and get comfortable. His whole body ached. “You did, too.” Tony said as he pointed to the bruise blossoming along Peter’s chin.

That bruise smacked Tony in the face almost, because it did not take a genius to realize that is was essentially there because of him. Because he wanted them to register and Steve did not and Peter had, for some reason, sided with him. And Peter was a superhero, just like them. Peter would have to register. Peter, who as Spider-Man was still not always everyone’s favorite had the Daily Bugle on his back constantly at only nineteen, the same paper he worked for as Peter Parker. Peter, who was a threat to no one, not like the rest of them, and would be put in so much danger by registering. Those records would be public knowledge. All of those who hated Spider-Man would know he was Peter.

Steve was right, if only because it would keep Peter safe.

The teen shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “No. It’ll heal pretty quickly. Advanced healing factor and all. I’m no Pops, but…” Peter looked away, shrugging. “I’ll be fine. Sure you don’t want an ice pack?”

“Yeah. You go lie down, sleep some, okay?” Tony asked softly, mind whirring as Peter stood and nodded

“Okay. It’ll be nice to get out of this suit. Spandex is only so comfy for so long.” Peter muttered, squeezing his hand before heading out. “Night, old man.”

“Night, Peter.”

Tony waited a while, staring up at the ceiling above them for a couple hours until he was sure Peter was asleep. He pulled himself out of the bed and to a stand, ignoring the quivering of his limbs. He took his time changing clothes and taking stock of the bruises he had acquired, wishing for once that he could go back to the eternally gentle Steve he had come to love. Which is what motivated him to stagger out of the cabin, and into the woods. His body shivered from the early winter wind chill, but he kept moving. He had promises to keep, the first of many being, “for better or for worse”, and the last being, “till death do us part.”

_.   .   ._

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep._

_But I have promises to keep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep._

.   .   .

When had things gone south for him?

He would like to say when he crashed the Valkyrie into the ice; any other person would have. But no. That was not the start of his troubles. He actually thanked his past self for doing that. So many things would have never happened. He would have missed out on meeting the other Avengers, who were basically family now. And he definitely would not have started his own actual family had he not crashed the plane back then. At least not the one he had now, not the one he loved so much.

He would have never found Bucky again.

Perhaps finding Bucky is what started his problems, what started to drive the knife between him and Tony? Ultron had undoubtedly made things worse beforehand, but finding Bucky and then not telling Tony? They were not the same. Their family was not the same, and it was hurting Peter. The teen had only been in their lives for about three years, but it felt to him like they had always had him. And now Peter would not even talk to him.

That hurt. That hurt a lot.

He had asked Peter to hide the fact that they had found Bucky from Tony, and he had. He hid it until Crossbones had attacked and nearly destroyed New York City and set Bucky loose. That had caused the governments of the world to lash out at them, and request their registration. And Tony had sided with them, had even wanted Bucky locked up and behind bars.

And Peter sided with him. It hurt. Peter was his best friend in a way; the person that went to baseball games with him, trained with him. Tony would do some of those things, but he often complained (especially about baseball games). But, Peter? He loved it. Steve wished he could have done these same things with Peter – _for Peter_ – when he was younger. He wanted more time with his son. But now? Now, Peter was actually fighting against him. He was fighting for something that could end his future for him. And he probably did not even realize it. He was so caught up in trying to make things up to his other father for lying about that night when they found Bucky that he did not realize the consequences to himself.

Peter was going to get himself killed. Steve’s family was going to come to an end. He was going to lose everything and everyone he had come to care for. He was going to lose it all.

Bucky stiffened beside him where they were walking through the woods. “Steve,” He said, voice tense. “Two o’clock.” He muttered, knife in his hand and at the ready. Steve held his arm out in front of Bucky, shaking his head. He put a finger to his lips, slowly moving forward. He could make out the footsteps in the frozen grass and leaves, hear the person struggle to breathe. They had likely been out here for a while.

“Hello?” He called out against his better judgement, shield at the ready on just in case. He inched closer to the sounds, ready to either help someone or stop them.

He did not expect the voice that answered him. “Steve?” The last person he had thought he might find out here came stumbling through some trees, arms wrapped tightly around his torso and body shivering. Tony’s skin was deathly pale where it was not covered in bruises and his lips were an unhealthy blue. Steve hated to say that he felt responsible for all of it.

He placed his shield on his back, aware of the fact that Bucky was still standing behind him with his gun. He reached out a tentative hand to Tony, not quite grabbing him. Just waiting for Tony to move forward. To come to him like he had so many times before all of this shit had gone wrong. “Tony. H-hey, Tony. What’re you doing out here without your armor? Where’s Peter?”

“C-c-cabin.” Tony stammered out, grabbing Steve’s hand and suddenly collapsing against him. He was so cold, and his body shook so much against him. Steve wrapped his arms around him instinctively, resting his chin atop Tony’s head. Even his hair felt like there was frost covering it. “H-had to find you. J-j-just g-got lost. Suit’s brok-broken.”

"You could've called me,” Steve sighed, motioning for Bucky to put his gun down finally. He honestly doubted he would have answered, though. Not with the rage that had been boiling inside of him since Tony basically betrayed him, all of them. “I know there’s a phone at the cabin. We were actually headed there to hunker down.” He started to move through the woods, Bucky at his back and Tony under his arm. They made slow progress, Tony’s frozen feet stumbling over everything. It did not really surprise Steve that they had both thought to go to the cabin. Tony had established it as a safe house for them shortly after Peter came into their lives, a sort of backup plan in case things went awry.

Just like they had.

“W-wanted to talk… In person.” Tony managed, his voice nearly lost to the wind. “Say sorry. I d-don’t really want to punch your perfect teeth in. I...” Tony trailed off, voice going silent as his body seemed to get heavier. His feet drug through the snow, Steve quite literally holding him up.

He squeezed Tony gently, giving a little shake. “Hey. Stay awake for me, Ton’, okay?” Steve asked, keeping that edge of concern from his voice. He used what his husband called his “Cap” voice. “Tell me about Peter. How is he?” He wanted to ask why he thought it was safe to leave their impulsive nineteen year old “home” alone, but he did not. He just needed to make sure Tony would be alive when they made it to the cabin, because neither he nor Bucky were exactly good at first aid, let alone dealing with hypothermia.

“Bruised. Good.” The words came soft and weak and were barely carried to his ear by the wind. He felt Tony shift some against him, like he used to when waking up in the morning. Tony was always so sweet in the mornings, fresh from waking and nuzzling up against Steve. Now said nuzzling was done out of necessity, trying to get warm. “Y-you’re right. F-f-f-for him. Can’t happen ‘cause of P-pete. It’d hurt him.”

"And thousands of others, Tony.” Steve sighed, unable to keep the mildly annoyed tone from his voice. At least Tony appeared to see reason, but Steve doubted it would last long after Tony was warmed and feeling better.

"Peter's a-all… Tha’matters. An’ you.” His words slurred and Steve instinctively picked up the pace. He had to move. Slurring words and almost sleeping were not good. He looked to Bucky, subtly tipping his head forward and his friend was rushing forward. Steve scooped up Tony, ignoring the weak protests as he moved.

They made it to the cabin in a few minutes, getting there just as Peter was peeking out and calling for Tony. He faltered, only seeing Bucky at first and looked about ready to bolt until he saw Steve. And a deathly pale, passed out Tony. “Get the heat cranked up, and grab all of the blankets! And the heating pad!” Steve shouted, getting Bucky and Peter into action immediately. “Hurry!” He settled Tony down on the floor in front of the fireplace, thankful it was gas and easy to start. He pulled Tony against him, wrapping his arms tightly around him and nuzzling his freezing neck to try and get him warm. He ran his hands up and down the length of Tony’s arms. He had to get his blood circulating properly. God knew Tony already had enough circulation problems. He had to get him warm.

He was so focused on trying to warm up his husband that he did not hear Peter return, arm loaded down with blankets and a frightened look to his face. He stammered a bit, struggling to find what to say. The teen eventually settled on, “Uh, Bucky’s getting the heating pad. He cranked the heat up, too.” He shifted on the balls of his feet, jerkily setting the blankets on the ground next to them. Peter’s eyes were focused on Tony the entire time, constantly watching to be sure he was still breathing.

Steve knew how terrifying this had to be for Peter, already having watched the three people who he had based his life before them around die. Gwen had actually died while Peter lived with them, and Steve recalled how he worried that Peter would just vanish one day. The teen had merely drifted about the tower, had not gone out as Spider-Man for about six months. Steve had hated every second of it, watching Peter move around the tower like a ghost. It had taken them ages just to get Peter to start leaving his room for anything other than his daily visit to Gwen’s grave.

It was made a bit worse by the fact that Peter’s best friend had been the one to let his girlfriend drop to her death. And that was what Steve and Tony had said to Peter over and over again when the 19 year old would start hyperventilating and curling in on himself, repeating “it’s all my fault.” “You tried to save her, Pete.” Steve would say, pulling Peter into a comforting embrace. “That’s all we can do sometimes. Try.” Peter had tried. He had fallen just as far as Gwen, trying desperately to catch her. And he had. He had caught her with a web and been so relieved at the moment that he had not thought anything was wrong until he fell to her side.

When his web had caught her, it had stopped her fall, but the sudden loss of momentum had snapped her spine, and her head had knocked hard against the ground just beneath her. She had died, and Peter had to listen to Harry cackling above him from where he was stuck to the wall.

It had taken them three days to find Peter after that. It had been at Gwen’s funeral when they finally found him, standing at the very foot of her grave. And that was where they found him every day after that for six months. Six months without Spider-Man, and other heroes surfaced in New York, other villains. But, as good as they may have been, they were no Spider-Man (or Avengers, but they generally stayed out of matters in New York City that did not threaten the world because it annoyed Peter). The effect of him being gone became noticeable. The new guys could only do so much, none of them with actual powers. One was just a blind guy with high pain tolerance, for crying out loud! And it took another visit from Green Goblin in New York, terrorizing Central Park this time, to get him out of his slump. Harry had snatched a little boy up, one who had bravely been ready to do anything to defend his little sister, and flung the kid. Peter caught him, setting him gently on the ground to get to safety. He then went at the man with a vengeance, almost as if he were possessed. Peter fought with everything, taking Harry down without any of the restraint he had always used when fighting his friend. He had always compared it to Bucky; his best friend was down in there. Somewhere. But, it was obvious to Peter then that he was too crazy, too far gone. So he ended it.

The Daily Bugle headline said it all the next day: ‘Spider-Man: A True Hero’.

Peter still blamed himself for Gwen’s death. That much was evident. It just added onto the death of his Uncle Ben, and eventually his Aunt May. Peter had seen so much death at such a young age. Steve hated that for his son. Hated that he could possibly have to see one more if Steve could not get Tony warm.

Some of that worry abated as Tony coughed, eyes cracking open just a bit. “’Ey, Pete.” He mumbled, curling up in the blankets and still shivering as Steve made sure he was completely covered. “Hot cocoa?” The question was so innocent and so very _Tony_ that Steve actually laughed.

Maybe they could be alright.

_.   .   ._

None of them saw Steve’s arrest coming. All of them – every single one of the Avengers, fighting together for the first time in months – had fought Zeemo’s forces, taking them down. They had thought if they got rid of him and his pawns, the arrest warrant for their beloved Captain would disappear. No one would have a real reason to arrest him then.

It was stupid, wishful thinking. They were wrong.

When they all watched Steve get assassinated on live television, Bucky and Vision had to hold Tony down to keep him from flying off and doing something stupid.

No one stopped Peter from slipping out, though.

It was all over the news later. Peter had gathered a crowd in Times Square, in his Spider Man costume, and done the unthinkable. He yanked his mask off, on live television. “My name is Peter Parker.” He said firmly, seeming so different from the awkward teen Tony and Steve had taken in years ago. “And I am Spider-Man. And I just watched one of the men who took me in get _killed._ Because he was trying to keep me, and all of the others _you people_ are dependent on safe. Without us, what would you do? You’d all probably be Loki’s mindslaves! And you want us all registered and under government control? The government tried to nuke you! They don’t care about you! They want control!

“Go ahead, support this act. _Try_ and get us under surveillance. And watch us all disappear.” The crowd around him listened in awe, all of them somehow silent. The threat was there. If they had to register, they would all disappear. They would quit saving them, leave the world in the hands of the villains. Leave them all to defend themselves. “Go ahead and try to leash us, but know this; killing Captain America, the man who stepped in to be my father? That was the last straw.”

Tony heard nothing of this until a hospital called him, saying his son had been found bleeding out from four gunshot wounds in an alleyway. Peter had been covered in severe bruising, had a collapsed lung, ruptured spleen, and had 12 broken and fractured bones. The doctor over the phone said Peter was already healing, but would likely need to be observed after surgery for the next week. Peter was still in surgery, but would be out soon. Tony had rushed to their room to get Steve, in a panic. There was no Steve, though. Just the sheets on their bed all rumpled from the last time Tony had been there a day and a half ago, with Steve. Tony just stood in the doorway, one hand clenched tightly on the door frame as he stared at the bed. It was so empty. So wrong. All of it was so wrong. This was not meant to be his life.

Sitting next to Peter’s hospital bed by himself was wrong. Steve was supposed to be there with them. Steve was always there. Steve was the comforting one. Tony could not handle this. He had his elbows on his knees, head buried in his hands as he just sat there. He listened to the reassuring beep of the monitor for hours. Peter was still alive. Peter would live, at least. Steve would be happy with that, just to know Peter lived.

Tony felt bad wondering if it was really worth it.

.   .   .

“How is the kid?”

Tony’s head snapped up, looking to Fury with a bit of a frown. “How do you people all move so quietly?” He grumbled half-heartedly. He just could not find it in himself to start up banter like he used. It would not be the same, not without Steve’s immediate response of, “No, Tony, you are not going to be putting a bell around anyone’s neck.” Tony drew in a long breath, “Peter’s a trooper, just like Steve. Whatever that spider bite did to him certainly is helping.”

The director nodded, eye looking over to Peter’s sleeping form for a moment. He slipped a paper out of the inside pocket of his long coat, moving to hand it to Tony after a brief moment. “Good to know the kid’ll live. Because we won.”

Tony took the paper gingerly in his hands, unfolding it to stare at the front. ‘SHRA Not Passed In Light of Recent Attacks.’ Tony snorted at the pictures of his late husband and one from Peter’s announcement. He shook his head, not even bothering to read the whole article. He dropped on the little bedside table, “Yeah, we won. But look at what we lost.” _What I lost_.

“Soldiers make sacrifices. _Parents_ make sacrifices.” Fury stated, and Tony knew all of that. God, he knew it, but it did not mean he had to like that. Steve had always been the self-sacrificing type, even when he was still a 90 pound asthmatic. It was in his blood to make himself a literal shield for other people.

Fury continued after a moment as Peter finally started to stir, rolling over and blinking at Tony with a soft, “Tony?” “I think he would say it was worth it.” Fury slipped away as Tony turned all of his attention to Peter, fretting over him and calling in a nurse to check him over. Fury was right. Steve would have thought his sacrifice was worth it. If only for Peter, if not everyone else as well. And Tony would hate him for it until the day he died and got to torment his husband in whatever afterlife awaited them, but for now, he needed to make sure their son was alright. He owed that to Steve.


End file.
